Prison Journals During the French Revolution

At last we reached our own rooms. Mademoiselle de Pons had not left my side since we reached Plessis; we took the measure of our habitation, and found that with some management we had room enough for two beds, placing the head of one at the foot of the other. This sweet girl burst into tears when she saw our poor little establishment, sat down on a mattress beside me, and said, 'We shall surely die. It is impossible to live in such a contracted place. O God! may none of my friends ever come here!'

I did my best to arouse her courage, which had quite vanished, and to remove her dislike at living so intimately with an old woman by assuring her that I had no disease. Our furniture consisted of two chairs; our mattresses were on the floor, and the wall served as our pillow. Fortunately it was freshly whitened, and consequently clean. The bolts were fastened, – a sad moment; for the sound they made told us that until morning, no matter what happened, it was impossible for us to receive any assistance. We were told that a jailer of the guard would answer if we called; but I heard one of my neighbours cry all night with pain, and no one went to help her.

My first night's rest was excellent. The intense fatigue I had suffered the preceding days made me sleep. My young companion slept soundly and late. When daylight appeared I found we had a fine view; I could see the whole city of Paris. I reflected sadly upon the terrible condition of my unhappy country, once so far-famed as a place where one could spend peaceful, happy days. I thought of all the horrors which were being committed there; the tears rose to my eyes, but I dried them quickly so as not to discourage Mademoiselle de Pons when she first awakened.

About eight o'clock in the morning the bolts were drawn and the keeper, Haly, came in, followed by an enormous dog. This strange man greeted us as though we were in one of the old-time châteaux where abundance, peace, and pleasure reigned. He even seemed astonished that we were not charmed with the pleasant lodgings he had given us. After he was gone, and our companions' bolts were drawn, we eagerly gathered together, and had no trouble in finding one another, as the corridor on which we were lodged was only three feet wide. The first thing to be done was to arrange about our meals. It was only after repeated requests that we received permission to go down six steps to get water. The jailer who had charge of us, as well as his comrades, assumed the title of warden, thinking thus to render their office more honourable. There were three classes of them, and almost all were drunkards, selfish, rapacious, lying, while a few were absolutely ferocious. We specially noticed one of them, who had taken part in the massacre of the 2d of September, 1792. This man, who at this time was our despot, was a sculptor; and I was astonished that he should have accepted so miserable an employment. After he had granted us permission to go for water, the need of having something to eat made itself felt. The mess-table had not then been established. I inquired how we could procure provisions at a moderate price. An eating-house keeper sent us our dinner; but before he could reach the floor on which we lodged, which was the highest in the house, the food he carried was often taken from him as he passed along on the other floors. Finding that I could not possibly live in this way, I sent to learn whether my dinner could be sent me every day from my own house. Lucas, my father's former clerk, was very anxious that this should be done; but it was very difficult to find any one in the house who was willing to bring it to me, as it was considered a dangerous thing to do, and not very 'civic'. At last an old postilion named Lerot, whose name I mention with gratitude, had the courage to undertake it. A neighbour of the Hôtel Mouchy, said openly in the street, when she saw him go by, that it was not worth while taking me anything to eat because I was going to be guillotined. Two respectable ladies clubbed together with me, and we divided our provisions, – they furnishing some also; and we set about getting them cooked. Mademoiselle de Pons did not find our fare good enough, and joined with a woman from Beauvais, and two young girls.

I enter into minute details which would be very tiresome if this memoir was intended to be read by strangers; but it is for my own relatives that it is written, and I am too sure of the interest they take in what I have suffered to omit to mention the least thing.

The rules of our prison were extremely strict. At eight o'clock in the morning the keepers opened the doors; this was a truly agreeable moment, – if I may use such an expression in such a connection; then they wrote our names on the registers, but being so little accustomed to such matters they never made the list as it should be, and so were obliged to have the roll-call two or three times a day. One moment they ordered us to remain inside our rooms, and another we were told to stand like sentinels at our doors. The locking up, and ascertaining that each prisoner was in her place, seemed a more solemn affair. The keeper, followed by the turnkeys, gendarmes, and some large dogs, came about ten o'clock in the evening or at midnight. This goodly company made pleasing jokes and a great deal of noise. I always pretended to be asleep, and made no reply to what they said. It seemed sad that our sleep, which alone had the power to cause us to forget our troubles, should be interrupted by that sound which most quickly recalled them.

During the first days after our arrival we spent our time mostly in sending petitions to Fouquier-Tinville, asking to be reunited to our families. We have since learned that not one of them reached him. I eagerly sought for some opportunity of sending or receiving communications from my parents. At last I discovered that in sending some trifling thing to the Luxembourg I could add two or three lines, which at least served to say we were alive. The notes were sent open, and passed through the hands of the registrars and jailers of Plessis and the Luxembourg. I suffered intensely at having to inform my parents that I should not have the consolation of joining them; they tenderly expressed their deep regret for this. The sight of their handwriting, after having been so long deprived of it, moved me profoundly; I received a few words from them every two or three days.

The commissioner, Grandpré, fearing lest our crowded condition should cause sickness, proposed that we should take the air in the courtyard. We had a great aversion to going down a hundred steps, passing six grated iron doors, preceded, accompanied, and followed by keepers. We refused to do it for some time. Then he told us that if we paid no regard to his request we should be charged with aristocratic opinions; consequently, we were obliged to yield, and take the walk. The place appointed for our promenade was very confined, enclosed by plank fences, and surrounded by gendarmes, who kept their eyes upon us. We found there about twenty women who had come from the Conciergerie, and who were lodged under us without our knowing anything about it. After conversing with them our fears were redoubled; for they gave us a most fearful account of that terrible prison, which has been called the anti-chamber of death. They told us that every day a large number of victims for the scaffold were sent from there, and that our house was considered a sort of annex to the Conciergerie. We were entirely ignorant of what was going on outside our cells. Madame de Vassy, a pupil of J. J. Rousseau, and daughter of Monsieur de Girardin, had induced a jailer named Launay, the best of our keepers, to bring her some newspapers; but this was found out, and was considered an unpardonable crime. He was taken to another prison and put in irons, and but for the death of Robespierre would have perished. This man, who is still living, actually wept when he took us out on our compulsory airing, which rather seemed like leading out a pack of dogs. Rain or shine we were taken out for the prescribed time. If some of us wished to go in sooner than others, we were forbidden to do so, and we were taken out whenever our keepers chose. The men who lodged near the stairway were obliged to retire when we passed in front of their gratings; but their windows looked out upon the space where we were allowed, or rather ordered, to walk, and there they often recognized their wives and children, – all those whom they loved, and of whose very existence they were ignorant.

Only prisoners from Chantilly were now lodged on our corridor. Among those who came from the Conciergerie were Mesdames de Grimaldi and de Bussy, from whom we had a full account of all the horrors which were being enacted there. A few days later Madame de Bussy was carried off, to be indicted by the Revolutionary tribunal; but her case was not pressed, and she returned to Plessis. We were just congratulating her on the subject when she was sent for again, and led to the scaffold. She had scarcely gone when the jailers seized upon all her effects, and tried to sell them to us, – an incident which shocked us greatly. We repelled their disgusting proposition with horror.

The condition of affairs grew worse every day. Parties came to us from all the Departments; our prison was terribly crowded; the faces constantly changed. Those who arrived told us of the death of persons of the highest reputation. We questioned the keeper, but he would give no explanation of the vague rumours which reached us. I implored him once more to effect my reunion with my parents, but with no result. He replied to my earnest solicitations compassionately, 'You do not know what you are asking; you would certainly not be better off at the Luxembourg.' He seemed to foresee the horrors which were to take place there. Alas! I was not thinking of the strictness of the prison rule, but of the longings of my own heart.

A garden was given us for our promenade-ground instead of the courtyard surrounded by the plank fence. One day as I was passing very near the building in which we were living, accompanied by Mesdemoiselles de Pons and Titon, I saw them pick up a scrap of paper which was thrown out of the vent-hole of an underground apartment, the window of which they had neglected to close. There were a few lines written upon it, which were almost illegible, but which we made out to be, 'Three unfortunate beings, completely destitute, implore your pity.' The paper was tied to a string, which was withdrawn. Mademoiselle de Pons, much moved, said to her companion, 'Is it possible that we are surrounded by such miserable beings?' She asked my permission to throw them some money, and I granted it. She wrapped it in a tiny package, and pretended to pick up a stone, while Mademoiselle Titon let it drop quietly into the dungeon. We heard a clapping of hands. The eyes of the young girls filled with tears; and the evening was passed in the satisfied feeling that they had been able, for a moment at least, to render the situation of those suffering creatures less wretched.

We never learned what became of them.

A month had passed since we left Chantilly when a party arrived, among whom was Madame de Pons, to whom I restored the precious charge which I had been so happy as to keep for her; I was then left in sole possession of my room, which I enjoyed very much. I was informed that it was proposed to separate the suspected persons from those indicted by the Revolutionary tribunal, and to place us in a building facing that we were now occupying. This change seemed so advantageous to us that we urged the keeper to carry it out as quickly as possible. To do him justice, he behaved very well on this occasion, using his influence with the terrible Fouquier-Tinville to prevent our being mistaken for the indicted prisoners, and to effect our removal without delay. I regretted for a moment the loss of the beautiful view from my apartment; all the fine buildings in Paris were before me, – the cathedral, St. Sulpice, the Val-de-Grâce, etc. I remembered that on Easter Day, as I was grieving over the thought that the holy sacrifice was no longer offered up in those temples made so venerable by their antiquity, and the prayers of the faithful, I joined in the prayers of those whose faith was strong, and who were sharing my sad thoughts, and found that I was really more edified than I had often been on that holy day when at the foot of the altar.

At last the order came for us to leave our apartments, and carry our effects with us. One person was sufficient to assist me in my moving; a wretched pallet, a straw chair, and a few dishes composed my only furniture. The moment of our departure was very trying to those who remained still under the power of the public accuser. Several of them wept when we left them. The separation was final.

When I reached my new prison it seemed to me a mansion, since there were only two gratings instead of six, as before; and as the men were entirely separated from the women, we were allowed to go all over the building, from top to bottom, without a keeper. I was lodged on the fifth floor, in what was called formerly 'the philosophers' warming-place'. The names of the scholars were, as is customary, written in charcoal on the walls; I recognized a few of them. There was a fireplace in this pretty room, and I think it was the only one in the corridor. It was immediately made use of to warm all my neighbours' coffee-pots, which occasioned a continual procession not at all agreeable.

Before my detention, I had thought that a prison would be at least a place of repose, where I could give myself up to study; but this was not the case at all, at least not in those where I stayed. Every moment the keeper, the jailers, the turnkeys, the purveyors, etc., came in. We were made to go down to the clerk's office to attend to our commissions. I could not read one single hour without interruption. One thing which I have heard spoken of, and which I have certainly verified, is the habit prisoners have of being destructive. It arises from their standing in need of a thousand things. I had no shovel, so I broke a piece of slating and used it for one; I took a floor-tile for a lid. It was very difficult to procure wood, so I burned up my chairs. We could not send a keeper down-stairs without paying him a hundred sous.

In spite of the admiration inspired by my new dwelling-place, I was forced to sigh for the one I had left. We slept where the plaster was quite fresh, which gave me such a raw sensation in my throat that I could swallow nothing but milk. On the stairways there was a very unwholesome smell of oil; all the windows, above and below, had been grated, and boards adjusted, so as to make it impossible to throw letters out. The outer aspect of our building was frightful. We lost by our transfer the promenade in the garden, and had instead one no better than in the courtyard at Plessis, so that one could not make up one's mind to go out except when it was absolutely necessary to go in the open air. The men and women went there at different hours. They were shut in on every side; and walls had been erected so that the prisoners could not be seen by their neighbours, and could make no sign to them. One little alley-way, however, which it was impossible to shut out from our view, allowed us to see human beings at liberty, or who at least believed themselves to be. The windows which procured this little view for us were very much sought after and always occupied. Persons interested in the prisoners came to assure themselves of our existence. Our numbers increased each day, and brought us some detestable recruits. I had very near me some vulgar creatures, – young women from the Rue de Chartres, some persons with the itch, the hangman's mistress, and a drunken creature, who said she was a person of quality belonging to the family of Désarmoise, to whom in manner at any rate she bore not the slightest resemblance. She assumed the right to come into our rooms every day, make a great noise, and deliver herself of the most abusive language, for which she afterward asked pardon. I was, of course, very much touched by her repentance, but her visits were still very disagreeable to me. Another of my neighbours, a lady of the court, was insane; and unfortunately for me, she took a great fancy to me. She lay down to sleep one day just in my doorway, and could only be gotten away by force. The sort of care that I was obliged to take of her was as disagreeable as it was fatiguing, and it was a real calamity. One of her fancies was to write to Robespierre. I suppose her letters suffered the same fate as ours, – never to reach their destination. Only the two lines added to the requests which we made for necessary things ever found favour at the clerk's office.

The mess-table, the nature of which we had experienced at Chantilly, was established. We were placed in the rhetoric class-room, and grouped at tables of twelve covers each. Each of us had a wooden spoon, but no fork; and we were given to understand that the latter was a dangerous thing. We also had a wooden bowl given us from which to eat our soup; and I have kept it as a curiosity. I never used it. It seemed as though pains had been taken to do everything which could excite our disgust. The tables had no cloths, and were never washed; as a great deal of wine was spilled the smell was insupportable. Hairs were often found in the food; and the dirtiest of the prisoners were detailed to wait upon us. Pigs ran about the refectory while we were at dinner. A notice was posted one day, saying that it was only necessary to give us enough to keep us alive.

Supper was entirely done away with. Mesdames de Courteilles, de Rochechouart, and de Richelieu ate with the lowest creatures, and Madame and Mademoiselle de Pons with Mademoiselle Dervieux, of the Opera, a negress, and what were called feminine sans-culottes.

The men ate in another refectory. My mess-mates were hard to please in the matter of food, among them the daughter of one of the Duke of Bourbon's grooms. Such people were never content. The keeper, angry one day because they tried to throw their plates in his face, pointed me out to the commissioner who examined us, as well as others of my class, and said, 'You can ask those ladies; they never complain of anything.' He greatly preferred to have charge of us than of the common people. The keepers at Plessis were not at all like those at Chantilly, who were kind, attentive, obliging and attached to us. Those at Plessis persecuted us to get money, demanded services of us, and reproached us when we had two garments for not giving them one of them. They were very hard to get along with. I often served them as secretary in writing to their relatives or making applications. Once while doing something of this sort a very amusing thing happened to Madame de la Fayette. A woman asked her to compose a petition for her, which she did immediately, with the readiness and kindness which characterized her. But as her handwriting was bad, she charged the person to have it copied; and she had the stupidity to send it to a prisoner, who, good patriot that he was, was indignant at the want of civism evinced in it, and sent it back with some words effaced, and the following remarks: 'This petition is aristocratic; one never uses such phraseology. This is not civic; it has the odour of a château. This person does not know how to draw up a petition,' etc.

We laughed a great deal at the severe criticism aroused by this kind action.

A convoy from La Force brought Madame de la Fayette to us at Plessis. The van-guard was composed of Madame des Réaux, who was eighty-four years old, Madame de Machaut, and other women who were at least seventy. These were, as a great favour, put into a carriage; the others, as was the custom, came in a cart. It was a long time before they were put into lodgings, and we were allowed to approach them. At last I was able to see one of my cousins, who found the rules in this prison less severe than in the one from which she came; and all the girls of the street from Paris collected there presented a spectacle so indecent that one so pure as she could scarcely endure it. Besides, she slept in a room where there were four other persons whom she did not know; I was able to get another room for her, which she thought quite palatial. She has often told me of the extreme pleasure she felt on awaking and finding herself alone. The room was so small that she could not put a chair between her bed and the wall; there was fortunately a recess, however, where with some trouble she could sit down. Having Madame de la Fayette so near me was very pleasant. Her virtues and kindliness, which had suffered no change from the life she had been compelled to live during the first years of the Revolution, the possibility of opening my heart to her with regard to my family, concerning my anxiety for whom I had never spoken to any one, did me much good; we wept together over her own fate. She seemed to me to be much less prepared than I was for the general and particular evils which threatened us. She thought, for instance, that she could defend her cause and that of her husband before the Revolutionary tribunal, and that only those were in danger who had committed some serious or trifling injury to the Republic. It took me at least a fortnight to set her right on this subject, and enable her to realize her true situation; but, indeed, what passed before our eyes was more eloquent than anything I could say.

The number of victims carried off became larger and larger; they generally went away during the time we were taking our walk in the courtyard. It seems to me now, that I can see the unfortunate Monsieur Titon, a counsellor in the parliament of Paris, as he passed beneath the windows of the room of his wife and daughter, who were not even permitted to bid him a last farewell. He went out at five o'clock in the evening, and the next day at noon he was dead. Carts and Fouquier-Tinville's carriage arrived at all hours, and were crowded with the accused. This man's coachman was well worthy of such a master; while the victims were getting into the wagon he drummed out dancing tunes, and his costume was that of a Merry Andrew. It is almost impossible to describe the terror excited by the opening of the great gate, especially when it was repeated several times a day. I can hear now the sound of the drum beating. The bailiffs of the Revolutionary tribunal went before the wagons with their hands full of warrants. Then there was a moment of deathlike silence. Every one thought the fatal order had come for him; faces were filled with terror, hearts and minds overwhelmed with fright. The bailiffs went up into the corridors to call for those who were to go off, and only allowed them a quarter of an hour to prepare. Each bade the other an eternal farewell; we were in a stunned condition, being only sure of living from ten o'clock in the morning until seven o'clock in the evening. Sleep was light when one suffered such anxiety, and was frequently interrupted by the arrival of convoys. That containing the famous prisoners from Nantais created a great sensation. It was the custom to receive the prisoners with lighted torches; and the keeper, accompanied by jailers and big dogs, dragged the poor prisoners from the wagons in the roughest manner. They were so much afraid of losing some of the prisoners that they called the roll two or three times in succession, then put them in the "mouse-trap," – a new name for a receiving-place. There was no calculation as to whether there was room enough in the house; room was made: and there have been as many, so we have been assured, as seventeen hundred at one time in the colleges of Plessis and Louis-le-Grand. Twenty-five persons were put in the same room, even in the entresols, with grated windows. The severity of the treatment increased constantly. One day about three o'clock in the afternoon I heard my bolts shot to, and could not understand the reason; it was unusual. It was on account of a servant having thrown water out of a window into the courtyard, after having been forbidden; and for this great crime we were punished.

We were not allowed to have any light in our rooms; this was a very great privation. To room in front of a street lamp was a great piece of good fortune. In the corridors were placed chaffing-dishes, on which we warmed our suppers. Those of us who had fireplaces kept the fires bright, so as to give light. Some one would light a candle for a moment, then extinguish it the next, for fear of being punished. To eat with our fingers was intolerable. To go to the jailer every day to ask him to cut up our chocolate was neither amusing nor satisfactory. I remember a large penknife which belonged to Madame Vassy which was our delight. She was a lovely woman, bright and intelligent, and extremely obliging. She said she liked variety. She married, on leaving the prison, a Prussian, who took her to Berlin.